


how not to run

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Daddy Kink, M/M, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:11:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1350286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oooooh just your average "Zayn gets trapped in the bedroom closet and sees things no mortal man should ever see" kind of thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how not to run

**Author's Note:**

> This is for loaded_gunn's Daddy Month. And oh boy, is it daddymonth-ish.

When Zayn wakes up sometime during a party at Harry and Louis's house with no recollection of how he got there, or where "there" actually is, he feels he really must blame Louis. It's not unfounded; it was Louis's friend Jace's mate Smitty who brought the weed and didn't tell anyone how strong it was. That's the part he does remember – his head in Perrie's lap, staring up at her whilst she stroked his hair. How he got from her lap to here is a mystery.

Judging by the smell of shoe leather and the drifty bits of cloth against his face, he's crawled into a bedroom and curled himself up in one of the massive walk-in wardrobes. Once his eyes adjust he realises it's not one of the spare rooms, it's the boys' room, and he's woken up because they're in the room with him, kissing by the door. He can just see them through the slatted wardrobe door, which faces the bed. They stumble into his full view and it doesn't occur to him – yet – to get up and let them know he's there because he really is very very stoned, and comfortable, and he'd quite like to go back to sleep actually. Besides, he's lived in close quarters with them. He's heard and seen some things that would kill a lesser man. No surprises here, he'll just wait until they're done and maybe have a nice snooze along the way.

"Did you lock the door?" Louis says. He sounds breathless, a little off-kilter.

"Yeah." Harry's smirking, Zayn can tell even with no light in the room. As soon as he thinks it, a light comes on, and he can see Harry pulling away from the bedside lamp. "Nobody's gonna wander in and see you face down arse up."

"Shut it," Louis says, but the half-warning in his voice is undermined by that same breathlessness, as if he's a bit shaky and not bothering to cover it up with any bluster or bravado. "What do you want me to do?"

"This isn't about me, babe," Harry says, muffled. He's pulling his shirt over his head, but doesn't take off anything else. "It's about you, isn't it? How do you think you've behaved tonight?"

Even through his very comfortable haze, Zayn's curiosity is piqued. This is not a Harry/Louis sex conversation he's familiar with, and until this moment he thought he knew them all. He knows how much Louis likes it when Harry comes on his face, that Louis tends to scratch Harry's back and pull his hair when he's about to come and that it drives Harry crazy to be marked up, and that sometimes Louis can get Harry off just by fingering him in front of the mirror. A few times, not on the bus or in any hotels but when he's stayed over at theirs for the night, he's heard Harry crying, but when he asked Louis the next morning if everything was all right, Louis softened – melted, practically – shook his head as if in disbelief, and murmured, "He's perfect, yeah. Perfect."

But this is different, and not just because he has a close-up view of the situation. And it's not because it seems like Harry's in charge either; that's not so terribly unusual. Stories of Harry tied up and blindfolded and gagged are burned into Zayn's brain permanently, but Louis also gets fluttery about Harry's big hands and how he can just bounce Louis on his cock with no effort at all, pick him up and fuck him against the wall or a door or, once, a tree. "Mate he's just so fucking sexy," Louis said exhaustedly once after a futile intervention during which the entire crew begged them to keep it down at night. He flopped on the bed next to Zayn, who patted his hair. "I can't control myself when he gets naked. I'm a fucking addict."

But it's a new kind of Louis right now, different to Zayn's vast knowledge of Louis Tomlinson, a Louis gone trembly and nervous, his voice taking on a sort of tone Zayn's never heard before. "I don't know," he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I guess – I've been a bit. Loud. On edge."

"Yeah," Harry says. He puts his hands on Louis's knees, spreads them, and pushes his way between Louis's legs. "What did you ask me to do, babe?"

Louis looks down, biting his lip. Zayn is fascinated.

"I asked you to keep me in check when I get too wound up," he says finally. Harry strokes his hair and Louis leans forward suddenly and buries his face in Harry's belly. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't," Harry says. "And there's nothing wrong with it, it's just how you are. But if you want me to keep you in check, I'm gonna do it."

Louis rubs his face against Harry, breathing hard, and Zayn wonders what's got him so rattled. It seems like he's on the verge of crying.

"Now," Harry says. "I think we can both agree you've gone too far tonight, yeah?"

Louis nods against him and says, almost too small for Zayn to hear it, "Yes sir."

And that makes Zayn sit up straight, sitting down hard on what is probably one of Harry's pointy boots, because _yes sir_ is not a phrase Louis would ever allow out of his mouth, unless maybe he was fucking about with an interviewer. They've had long conversations about the fact that Louis would rather cut off all Harry's curls than be a good obedient little boy – not Louis Tomlinson, no, not for _anyone_ , and yet here he is. Zayn feels his face heat up on Louis's behalf, knowing he must be embarrassed, or at least angry with himself for doing something he hates so much.

"And that's all right," Harry says, "that's why you want me to take care of you."

Louis nods again and lets Harry pull him up so he's standing. Zayn was right; Louis is bright red, and when Harry says, "Arms up, baby," so he can pull his white t-shirt off, his breath hitches and his lip quivers, and Zayn thinks he probably is about to cry after all. Why, Zayn wonders, would Harry make him do this? It's almost enough to make him try to scramble out of his hiding spot and ask, because Harry's not like this, he's not mean like this, especially not to Louis. But Harry unzips Louis's jeans and pushes them down and then Zayn gets it, because Louis is so hard Zayn winces a bit in sympathy. He might hate it, but if he's shivering and crossing his arms over his chest and on the verge of crying, it's because he wants it more than he hates it.

"What do you think is the best way to make sure you don't go too far again, baby?" Harry says softly. He's gently kissing the insides of Louis's thighs as he helps him out of his jeans, and Louis balances himself using Harry's shoulder.

"A spanking," Louis says in that same small voice, soft, so vulnerable it seems like it can't possibly be coming from Louis. That's what this new, strange tone is – he's not using the pitch of a little boy, but it's there in the cadence.

"How many, do you think?" Harry asks, standing.

Louis shakes his head. "I don't know."

Harry pulls him close, so close Zayn can only see Louis's fingers digging into Harry's back from his vantage point. "It's okay, baby," Harry whispers, "it's okay, don't worry, daddy will take care of it."

Zayn has to put both hands over his mouth to stop himself from shouting with laughter, and even so he only tamps it down to harsh puffs of breath. But Harry tells Louis to get on the bed, and Louis murmurs, "Yes sir," again, and for some reason that stops him laughing. He's still lightheaded, and keeps one hand over his mouth just in case. _Daddy_ , though, _honestly_. Is that what they're into? It seems so porn-dialogue cheesy until he remembers Louis clinging to Harry, shaking – this is what he likes, Zayn thinks, and no wonder it seems like he's struggling with it.

When Louis stretches out on the bed on his belly, Zayn realises they're really close to him. The wardrobe is only four feet from the bed at most, and he can see everything much more clearly than he wants to. If either of them turned their heads and looked directly into the closet through the slats, they'd see him watching. But he's tucked pretty well into the clothes and boots, and he doesn't think they're going to be paying very much attention to the wardrobe just now anyway. He's given up on having a nap, but now that they've got to the bed surely it will be over soon. From the sounds of it, the party outside the room is nowhere near done. He just needs to wait it out. And maybe close his eyes when they really get into it. Maybe not.

Harry stretches out next to Louis and he's all Zayn can see, totally blocking Louis. That's a good thing, Zayn thinks. He's not sure he wants to see what Louis looks like right now, because Harry's running a hand up and down his back and whispering that it's all right, it's going to be all right, he doesn't have to worry about anything because daddy's going to take care of him. After a minute or two it starts to soothe Zayn as well, and he's about to fall asleep again when Harry says, "Ready, babe?" Louis must nod, because suddenly Harry's hand lifts and comes down and there's a sharp smacking noise. And right, Zayn didn't make the necessary connection between Louis saying he needed a spanking and Harry actually giving it, right here, right now, with Louis gasping in a laddered breath and sobbing it out.

Harry slaps again and Zayn wants to cover his ears, but the truth is he's kind of...into it. He kind of is. It's just that spanking is so primal somehow, so much that he's squirming, and it's _Louis_ , and Louis is getting louder with each spank. After the fifth one Louis says, sounding like he's been running a marathon, "Sorry, sorry – I'm – I –" and Harry says _sssssh, baby, little boy, it's all right_ , and Zayn gets it now because he has a terrible urge to hold Louis and give him whatever he needs, to cuddle him and let him be a little boy if he needs it, to be daddy if that's what makes him feel safe and loved.

Ten smacks. Fifteen. Twenty. Louis gulps, in quick panicky breaths, "I can't stop, I can't, I'm about to come."

"Up on your knees then," Harry says.

He moves back and allows Louis room to get up, and now Zayn can see them both and wishes he couldn't. Each smack to Louis's arse makes him jolt and moan – and yet, somehow, it seems to loosen him up. After a few more he doesn't bother to hold himself up and puts his face in the pillow again, pushing his arse higher in the air. His cock is huge and stiff, wet and actually dripping onto the sheets, but he's not touching it – amazing. Zayn doesn't think he's got that kind of discipline, and he wouldn't have thought Louis did either. Harry keeps spanking until it must start to really hurt them both. He switches hands a few times and then just powers through it with his right hand, his face set in concentration. Finally, when Louis is trembling and Zayn has started to have mental conversations with Perrie that start off with "Babes, have you ever thought about, like..." and end in a surprising variety of ways, Harry stops. Thank god, Zayn thinks. He's sweating so bad. Surely – surely – they're going to get this over with now.

But Harry isn't done at all. He bends down so Zayn can see the muscles tightening along his sides, spreads Louis's arse, and starts to – god. Zayn's not a prude, really, he's been friends with Harry and Louis so long there's nothing he could possibly be sensitive about anymore, but this is something he likes to mentally gloss over. "Get your arse eaten out, you'll see god," Louis always says cheerfully whenever anyone's in a bad mood, but Zayn's just never been able to think about it except in the abstract. And now the ability to shove it away and not really think about it has been stolen from him, watching Louis's toes curl and hearing both Louis's muffled cries and Harry's lips and tongue, obscene in the quiet room. Harry's moaning as he does it, he's so into it, and Louis shoves his arse back again and again. If he was dripping on the sheets before, it's much worse now. They're probably soaked. Zayn squirms again. Would it be worth the discomfort for that kind of pleasure? He's not sure he could get past it, but watching the way Louis rocks onto Harry's mouth, it seems silly to give all that up over a bit of squeamishness.

Louis's hips get tighter and his cries get more desperate – about to come, Zayn thinks, just as Harry pulls away with a scrape of his teeth over what must be very tender skin on Louis's arse. He bounces off the bed for a moment and wriggles out of his jeans.

"Get in my lap, sweetheart," he says, crawling up to the head of the bed and patting his thigh. Louis doesn't move from his hands and knees at first, face in the pillow. Then he lifts his head, shifts, and presses his face against Harry's thigh. Harry strokes his hair and waits, and eventually Louis gets up and climbs into Harry's lap. Zayn hears a click and slick noises, and Louis's soft, breathy moan as he starts to move up and down.

"No, don't come on my fingers," Harry says, gently. Zayn doesn't think he's ever seen Louis go this long without talking, at least whilst he's awake. Possibly not even asleep. Louis curls over Harry's body and buries his face in Harry's neck, and Harry runs a hand up and down his back. "Do you want daddy to fuck you?"

"Yes," Louis says. He sounds so upset, Zayn can't get over it – choked-up, little-boy upset, like he needs to be held for a very long time.

"Then you have to say it, baby." Harry moves so his knees are up and Louis is cradled in his arms. "Sit up. Say it."

Louis sits up. _I should plug my ears_ , Zayn thinks, and doesn't.

"Say it, go on," Harry whispers, holding Louis's hips firm. "I'm almost inside you. Say it and you can have what you want."

Louis closes his eyes. The room is totally quiet, and Zayn can hear someone singing outside. Say it, Zayn thinks, with no idea what he needs to say. But he sort of does know, doesn't he? He knows the words Louis needs to say, words he's so wound up and on the verge of breaking down over.

" _Daddy_ ," he gasps finally, fierce and pleading and shaky, and Zayn can see he's coming before Harry is even inside him, writhing with the force of it, sobbing so loud they might actually hear him outside the room. Harry thrusts up twice and starts to come as well – Zayn knows those low, shocked moans. Harry always sounds so surprised when he comes. The bed rocks in soft slaps against the wall.

Finally, Zayn thinks, he can get out of here and sort himself out and get naked with his girl as soon as possible. But the second Louis calms, he wraps himself around Harry and he's crying, finally, deep and horrible like he's really hurt. Zayn's never heard him cry like that. Harry doesn't seem alarmed. He pulls Louis close and murmurs _baby, baby_ , so tenderly Zayn feels like he's really intruding for the first time. It feels like it goes on for ages. Harry tucks Louis even closer and turns to the side and the noise of his crying is muffled after that, but whatever thing Louis needed tonight, it seems bad. It seems like he's been holding onto it for months.

"You all right?" Harry asks when they've been quiet for several minutes.

"Yeah. Shit," Louis says weakly. "I'm fucking exhausted."

Don't fall asleep, Zayn thinks, suddenly realising they very well could and then he'll never get out of here. But –

"Quick shower, yeah, and then I'll rock you to sleep?" Harry says the last part low and soft.

"That sounds nice." Louis stretches, yawning, and budges up closer to Harry. His whisper is so small Zayn almost can't hear it. "Thank you. I needed that so bad."

"You're welcome, baby," Harry says, sitting up. "I can't carry you to the shower though. My arms are shaking."

Louis rolls off the bed. "My arse probably looks like that ugly painting you bought, remember the – "

"Heyyyyy," Harry says. "But yeah, it does actually. Deep Heat for you."

"I won't be able to sit for days." Louis sounds satisfied as they wander into the bathroom.

Zayn waits until the shower comes on before he scrambles up and out of the wardrobe. His legs are wobbly and he's drenched in sweat. The air feels ice cold when he's out in the hall, and he heads straight for the kitchen, where he knows Perrie will be.

"Babe," he says, and he knows he probably looks a bit wild-eyed and insane, but she kisses him anyway. "Babe, we need to go. Like _now_."

"Did you break the Spiderman toy again?" she asks innocently.

"Shhh," he says, because Louis hasn't found out about that yet and hopefully never will. "No, just. We need to _go_."

He presses up tight against her and she gets it. "My goodness, I guess we do," she says, and lets him lead her out of the party. He'll explain later.

*

Several months later, he's mostly been able to forget about that evening (although to be fair, it has added an entirely new dimension to his sex life). He ignores it when Louis gets strange and tense and suddenly he and Harry disappear, only to reappear an hour later with Louis red-eyed and clingy. He manages not to say anything whenever Louis sits down and then stands right back up again, blushing. Once when Harry was in LA and Zayn and Louis were really drunk, he teased Louis for wearing Harry's gray jumper five days in a row. "It smells like him," Louis said, his mouth curling down into his absolutely saddest face. "Poor baby," Zayn said, ruffling his hair, and Louis sighed. "I'm not very good at being a big boy," he said, and after a moment he shook himself and pretended he'd never said it.

But there comes a night when they're hanging out at Louis's London house with not just the Boys, but All the Boys, with Callum and Michael and Luke and Ashton, just fucking off and playing FIFA. Harry's just got back from LA again, and he and Louis are on each other like ivy, wrapped up in themselves so they have to be asked a question four or five times. The other boys go home after a little while. It's always like this at the end of the day, just the five of them left, watching **Anchorman**. Zayn will go home eventually too, but he's full and thinks maybe, since his girl's in Dublin tonight, he'll sleep here, cosy in the shelter of his boys.

"Another beer!" Louis demands, wiggling. He's curled up at Harry's side, feet tucked in between Harry's thighs.

"If I get up, you'll be cold," Harry warns him, but he's already on his feet, and as soon as he gets up Louis follows him.

"Gnaaaaaahhhh," Niall says, stretching, and when he's done Zayn realises they can hear Harry and Louis in the kitchen, clear as day.

"-your beer," Harry says.

"Don't need a beer," Louis replies. "I need to be – can I be –"

"You want to?" Harry asks. "Yeah, of course. Go to bed, I'll be right in."

The fridge opens, and when it closes Louis murmurs, "Yes, daddy."

Niall bolts up and looks at Zayn. _Daddy_? he mouths, looking scandalised. Zayn gestures at him to be quiet, and when Harry comes back in they all look perfectly innocent. Niall is pretending to sprawl out on the floor, all sexy, hip popped.

"Sleepy time for us," Harry says with a little wave. He knows they'll let themselves out if they want to, or stay if they want. When he's out of the room, Niall sits up again.

"Tell me you heard that," he says. Zayn tries not to make a face like he knows anything, but Niall sees straight through it and points at him. "You. You know something."

"It's nothing," he says. "Only I had sort of like a...a trapped in the closet incident a while back. I heard some things."

"Did you pull out your gun?" Niall asks slyly.

"Stop," he says, laughing. "I think it's just a, like, a play they do. Just fun."

"Yeah, but _daddy_ though," Niall says. "It's _Louis_ we're talking about."

Zayn shrugs. "It must do something for them," is the only thing he can say. He doesn't want to tell them anything else. If he's being honest, he's been able to pretend he didn't see anything at all, and he'd like to keep it that way, not only for his own peace of mind but because of all the things he's ever witnessed with these boys, this is one of the few he knows he shouldn't know.

He'll go home after all, he decides, and not stay the night here. He thought he knew before what they were up to when they were playing around like that, but tonight Louis wasn't tense at all, didn't seem too wild, didn't seem like he needed to be reined in. So it must be something else he gets out of it, and for the life of him Zayn doesn't know what that is. He wants to think a bit about the ways someone who knows you best of all can give you exactly what you need, take you apart and put you back together again, if you can bear to ask for it. It seems like a night for thinking about that kind of thing. Maybe a night for writing some things down.

And – definitely – a night for Skype sex.


End file.
